


By The Books

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Comment Fic 2016 [68]
Category: First Monday, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 04:11:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7998094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Julian Lodge and John Sheppard meet, and sparks fly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "First Monday/SGA, Julian/John, by the books."
> 
> Julian Lodge is a 3L at his law school clinic, and John Sheppard is a student who needs help.

Julian is wary at the way Madeline is grinning when she hands him an intake form.  
  
“You’re up, Lodge. Enjoy.”  
  
“I always enjoy helping people,” Julian says as seriously as he can muster. He scans the intake sheet - Sheppard, John, fending off a paternity suit by some woman named Candy Barre (Really? No wonder Madeline was smirking, this has got to be a joke). Sheppard has been living in the jurisdiction for at least the past six months, Madeline’s checked the box that means he qualifies for assistance. He’s a full-time student. Sheppard’s handwriting is slopy and masculine. Julian has heard all the jokes about his girly cursive and then some.  
  
“He’s in conference room two,” Madeline says and saunters away, still grinning.  
  
She rules the front desk with an iron first, and Julian was warned about getting on her bad side, but he thinks he’s been on it since day one.  
  
The legal clinic used to be an apartment for visiting faculty, so it has a kitchen, a bathroom and even a shower, which is nice, but the workroom with the computers is what used to be the bedroom, the reception area is what used to be the den, and Julian is pretty sure that the two conference rooms are what used to be the pantry and the cleaning closet.  
  
He straightens his tie, scoops up his notepad and pen, makes sure he has the intake sheet, and heads into conference room two.  
  
“Good afternoon, my name is Julian Lodge, and I’m a 3L practicing under the 3L practice rule -” He stops short, because the man sitting at the conference table could be his twin, from his unruly hair (which Julian has gone to great lengths to tame) to his pointy ears (which Julian is embarrassed about) to his eyes (which are listed on his driver’s license as hazel but there is no color in the world adequate to describe all the colors in Julian’s eyes - in John Sheppard’s eyes).  
  
“Well.” Sheppard clears his throat. “They say everyone in the world has a doppelganger.”  
  
“Twin, actually,” Julian says. “A doppelganger is a death omen from germanic folklore. And usually I’d say the apostrophic They are wrong, but - this is quite uncanny.”  
  
No wonder Madeline had been laughing.  
  
“That’s one word for it.” Sheppard even sounds the same as Julian.  
  
Julian forces himself to remain calm and professional. He slides into the seat opposite Sheppard. “So, I’ve reviewed your application for assistance. Tell me a little bit more about this - Candy Barre. Were you in a dating relationship?”  
  
Sheppard shudders. “No.”  
  
“In a non-dating sexual relationship?”  
  
“Also no.”  
  
“Then how does she possibly think you’re the father of her child?”  
  
Sheppard’s mouth twists. “I was a gentleman. She was drunk at a party. I made sure she got home safe. She got pretty handsy with me in the cab.”  
  
“So it’s your word against hers?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Why not wait for the DNA test to will out?”  
  
“Because she faked it.”  
  
“Why would she do that? Other than the obvious, of course.”  
  
Sheppard raises his eyebrows. “The obvious?”  
  
Julian smirks. “Your good looks.”  
  
“My father is Patrick Sheppard. I’m his oldest son.”  
  
Julian knows who Patrick Sheppard is.  
  
“My father and I don’t see eye-to-eye, and he’s probably disinherited me, but she recognized my name and got ideas.”  
  
“Can you prove she faked the DNA test?”  
  
“No, but there’s no other way it could say what it says.”  
  
“How so?”  
  
“Because I’m gay.”  
  
“Never stopped a man from sleeping with a woman before,” Julian says, shuddering delicately.  
  
Sheppard’s eyebrows shoot upward. “Really?”

“Some of us try to please our fathers.” The conversation is turning unprofessional very quickly, but there’s something unsettling about looking across the table at the man Julian could have been, had he been willing to assert his own dreams and desires. He is - on unsteady ground.  
  
“Well, I’m willing to do a DNA test again to prove I’m not the father,” Sheppard says. “I’ll pay for it myself, even if it means eating ramen for a month.”  
  
Julian nods. “All right. This seems like a straightforward case. I’ll need a copy of Ms. Barre’s petition, the DNA test results from the test she had done, and you’ll need to schedule a DNA test for yourself as soon as possible. Can you get those documents to me by the end of the week?”  
  
Sheppard reaches into the pocket of his zip-up hoodie, pulls out folded papers, pushes them across the table.  
  
Julian smooths them out, scans them, is hyperaware of Sheppard’s gaze on him.  
  
Sheppard says, “You’d really go that far? To please your father?”  
  
“I am about to graduate at the top of my class,” Julian says.  
  
Sheppard tilts his head. “What is it you wanted to do for yourself?”  
  
Julian studies Sheppard, his scruffy five o’clock shadow, wonders what he’s doing with his life, now that he’s free from his father. “I always wanted to fly, actually.”  
  
And Sheppard throws his head back and laughs, and there, he is utterly unlike Julian, because Julian never learned to laugh without restraint.  
  
“Why is that funny?”  
  
“Because,” Sheppard says, “I’m going to be a pilot. I’m going to fly.”  
  
And Julian kind of wants to hurt him, pretty face notwithstanding.  
  
Sheppard catches Julian’s gaze and leans in. “Have you ever done anything to upset your father? Ever?”  
  
Julian has to pause and search his memory.  
  
Sheppard huffs. “That answers that.” He leans in closer. “Julian Lodge, you’re twenty-five years old, and you’re about to graduate top of your class from law school, and in twenty-five years, you’ve been the perfect son.”  
  
“Yes.” Julian is aware of that, is proud of that, is bitter about that.  
  
“I’m about to ruin your perfection,” Sheppard says, and he catches Julian’s tie and tugs him in, and they’re kissing.  
  
And this is so wrong, but it feels perfect, and Julian parts his lips and lets himself taste flying and freedom.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "author's choice, author's choice, whispering a poem into someone's skin."
> 
> John Sheppard is good at numbers. Julian Lodge is good at words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem is The Flea by John Donne.

John is good at numbers, can remember them and recite them and calculate them in a blink, but he's not much good with words. He's not much good with feelings. He is learning to fly, he is learning to shoot, he is going to be a soldier, so he is good with his hands.  
  
Julian is good with words. He's not good with his feelings, either, but then this isn't about feelings, it's about skin, and hands, and mouths, and skin and skin and skin.  
  
Julian is pressed against John's back, pressing kisses up his spine, whispering as he draws John's shirt up, up, up.  
  
It makes no sense, but John's pulse is speeding up. His eyes fall closed as the words brush across his skin, soft as butterfly wings.  
  
" _Mark but this flea, and mark in this,_  
How little that which thou deniest me is;  
It sucked me first, and now sucks thee,  
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be."  
  
John tips his head back, and Julian mouths along his shoulder to his throat, slides his hands up John's chest, strokes delicate fingers along the lines of his muscles.  
  
" _Thou know’st that this cannot be said_  
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead,  
Yet this enjoys before it woo,  
And pampered swells with one blood made of two,  
And this, alas, is more than we would do."  
  
John's heartbeat doubles, his blood heats, and he surrenders to Julian's hands, and mouth, and skin. Julian turns his head to nibble at John's ear, slides his hands lower, and John swells under his skillful fingers.  
  
Julian turns John around slowly, lowers him to the giant, soft mattress, and whispers kisses all the way down his body, from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet.  
  
" _Yet thou triumph’st, and say'st that thou_  
Find’st not thy self, nor me the weaker now;  
’Tis true; then learn how false, fears be:  
Just so much honor, when thou yield’st to me,  
Will waste, as this flea’s death took life from thee."  
  
John moans and writhes, closes his eyes and lifts his voice to the sky as Julian's breath steals over him and speaks him into a little death.


End file.
